Let me remember instead how still
were the maples in the silence of Wednesday night,
lamplight shining up into their long gowns
from this window, how that star drew
across the sky all other stars,
a martyrdom for order in the cosmos.
Justice is that [...]
Reassurance is seeing
this fig tree hoping for even greater intimacy
with the porch. Who'd notice
when the eye seemed lost to thought
and thought a fly in the dark?
Not I. Suddenly it comes
to consciousness this morning.
Spare the metaphor. Speak.